


Return

by orphan_account



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: M/M, Pregame to epilogue, So there are spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The seraphim who maintained the garden had taught them that even if they didn’t need something, it could be useful to the seeds that were starting to germinate. They had a word for it in the ancient tongue that translated to something close to "small parts of us returning to the land."</p><p>Sorey loved it.</p><p>It made Mikleo uneasy, and he never knew why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return

Time flows differently for seraphim and humans.

Mikleo knew that. In his tenth summer in Elysia, he had heard some of the older seraphim talking about it, about how quickly a human’s lifetime passed by in the eyes of a seraph. When they realized Mikleo was listening, they changed the subject. They didn’t mean any harm - they just worried. That’s what Gramps had said when Mikleo had pressed him for details. He had frowned a little, but Gramps never faltered.  _ Worrying is the job of those of us who have been around for a few centuries, Mikleo. You and Sorey don’t need to worry now. _

And so Mikleo didn’t worry. He knew how much longer his lifespan was than Sorey’s, but he didn’t feel it. It was too early to feel it. He and Sorey were young - the same age, if you asked Sorey. He didn’t think that Mikleo’s six month head start was as important as Mikleo made it out to be. Years passed, but Mikleo didn’t think about whether it was going by quickly or slowly. When Mikleo and Sorey argued about who should be the leader on their next exploration or  who had found the best treasure in the ruins, Gramps smiled. Mikleo asked him if he was taking a break from worrying, and he only said  _ thank you _ . 

Mikelo didn’t know why, but he figured it must be a good thing. Gramps didn’t have to worry. He didn’t have to worry. They had time.

***

“There, all done.” He brushed the loose hair off Sorey’s neck. His hand lingered on Sorey’s warm skin, just for a second. Half a second, maybe.

“Something wrong?”

Mikleo yanked his hands back. _ Had he noticed?  _ “Oh! Sorry, Sorey.”

“Huh? Why?” Sorey had turned around, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did after Mikleo trimmed his hair. 

_ Time flows differently for us. _ Mikleo hadn’t thought about that truth in a while. He didn’t need to yet. 

“My hands are cold.”

Sorey laughed. “Is that all?” He was up, placing the chair back in front of the desk and reaching for the broom he kept leaning against the wall. Sorey always cleaned up after Mikleo cut his hair. It wasn’t something Mikleo had ever had to ask. 

“You don’t need to worry about that.” He swept up the hair quickly, gathering it into a basket to empty into the village’s compost pile. The seraphim who maintained the garden had taught them that even if they didn’t need something, it could be useful to the seeds that were starting to germinate. They had a word for it in the ancient tongue that translated to something close to  _ small parts of us returning to the land. _ Sorey loved it. It made Mikleo uneasy, and he never knew why.

He was no less uneasy than usual when Sorey whispered the word to himself as he picked up the basket. 

“Mikleo? Is there something else wrong?”

“No, nothing. I’m sorry, I must be tired to space out like this. Let’s go take the basket outside.”

“Sure.” Sorey wasn’t satisfied with his answer, but Mikleo knew he wouldn’t press the issue. As Mikleo opened the door, he felt Sorey grab his free hand.

“What -”

“You know, I like your cold hands.” Mikleo looked at Sorey’s grin and forgot to worry. It was impossible not to smile back. 

Mikleo bumped against Sorey’s shoulder as he gave his hand a squeeze. 

“Yours are way too warm.”

***

Sorey hadn’t said anything. He was stretched out in the narrow inn bed, one arm resting behind his head and the other laid down on the mattress next to Mikleo. Every so often, he’d look at Mikleo like he wanted to say something, but every time, one of them turned away before anything was said.

On most nights, they shared one room with all their companions, since every inn had rooms with two beds. However, Rose had insisted she wanted her own room that night, and the others had offered excuses that ranged from wanting to be around beautiful ladies to the need to escape “Meebo germs” in order to join her for a while. Mikleo had mouthed a quick  _ thank you _ to his friends and smiled at the thumbs up and exaggerated winks that he received when Sorey had his back turned.

But Mikleo knew they didn’t have all night. The other seraphim would have to return to their Shepherd before long. This was a small window, a brief pause in their journey where he could be alone with Sorey.

_ Please stop time right here. Don’t let time flow any further, slow or fast, it doesn’t matter.  _

He didn’t know who he was silently pleading to, but he did know that it was futile. Time would continue to flow until he lost Sorey to the land. Mikleo still couldn’t think of what he truly wanted to say, but he found Sorey’s hand and held it tight.

“Your hand’s warm.”

“Yours is  _ so cold _ ,” Sorey dragged out his words and smiled.

_ Let me stay here. _

Mikleo looked over at Sorey, at his smile. Somehow, nothing had changed about Sorey’s smile in all the years Mikleo had known him. It still wasn’t the smile of someone who carried the Shepherd’s burdens or of someone who was prepared to be lost in time for centuries. Sorey had told Mikleo his plan before telling any of the others, and he’d said it with a smile. Mikleo had smiled back, though he wanted to cry. If Sorey believed it would work, so did he.

_ Let him stay right here. _

He buried his head in the crook of Sorey’s neck and threw an arm across his chest. Without pause, Sorey let go of Mikleo’s hand in favor of pulling him close against him. Mikleo couldn’t see Sorey’s face, but he could feel the warmth of Sorey’s hand on his back and hear the steady beat of his heart.

“Hey Mikleo...we’ll meet again. Even if it takes a while.”

“I know.”

“Good. I love you, Mikleo.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry for making you cry.”

“I’m not crying.”

“Still...I’m sorry.”

Pulling back from Sorey for a moment, he wiped the tears from his eyes to take a good look at the person he loved more than anyone else. Only Sorey would apologize when he was the one who was sacrificing the most. He was still smiling, though worry showed around his eyes. He still rested his arm on the small of Mikleo’s back, still gave him a look that was warm and understanding. 

If Sorey was with him, then Mikleo didn’t have to worry, even now. His eyes and heart were clear. Mikleo held Sorey again, leaning in to kiss him. Sorey sighed and slowly ran his hand up and down Mikleo’s back while they kissed. Mikleo lost himself in the Sorey that he could touch in that moment and forgot about how soon Sorey would have to leave him. He focused on Sorey’s smell, his taste, the softness of his hair and the warmth of his lips.

As Sorey moved and kissed his neck, Mikleo ran his fingers through Sorey’s hair. He didn’t have to let go of him yet. 

_ Remember this. Burn all of this into your memory and don’t let it fade. _

Mikleo sighed as Sorey whispered his name. He tried to whisper Sorey’s back, but it came out much louder. The embarrassment Mikleo would usually feel was replaced with the need to keep saying it, to continue to say his soulmate’s name so that he could never forget how it sounds, no matter how many centuries they may spend apart.

“Sorey...Sorey…” he gasped as Sorey turned them so that Mikleo was under Sorey and flush against him. Sorey kissed him again, more urgently than before, more aware of how little time they had. And still, Mikleo said Sorey’s name with each breath he could spare.

“Sorey...Sorey, I love you.”

***

Gramps had been right all along. 

_ Worrying is the job of those of us who have been around for a few centuries, Mikleo. _

Mikleo remembered it long after he lost Gramps, and after hundreds of years, he understood. There were few moments now when he wasn’t worried, whether it was about litter he saw in the last ruin he studied, or a Shepherd who slacked off at training, or how he’d feel the next time a human he knew died.

It had been difficult the first time. Sergei had died an old man, by human standards. Mikleo attended the large military funeral with his friends, feeling grief as he thought about how quickly Sergei’s life seemed to go for him and panic as he looked at Rose and Alisha, realizing for the first time how much they’d aged. As he fought back tears, he looked at Lailah. He could tell from her face that it wouldn’t get any easier.

Rose was worse. The world mourned the loss of their most venerable Shepherd, but he mourned his friend. A few years later, an instant to Mikleo, Alisha was buried on the same cliffside as Rose, as per her wishes. They had become the most important people to each other over their lives, and Alisha chose to forgo the royal cemetery for a wilder, quieter space near Rose. 

That was something to share with Sorey. Mikleo had to remember that. He wrote everything down in his book, just as he had told Sorey he would. 

The book, though important to him, made Mikleo worry even more now. It read like a ledger of all the people he had lost over the years. He often recited the list in his head -  Dezel, Gramps, Sergei, Rose, Alisha, the many generations of Shepherds who followed in Sorey’s footsteps. He never included Sorey himself. 

Mikleo looked at the feather tied around his wrist to clear his head. He was revisiting the water temple ruins he and his friends had explored centuries ago, and he didn’t have time to reminisce or to worry. Sorey had said he’d be back, and as Mikleo wrote down his new observations, he felt it was true more than ever. Usually, he lingered before entering the innermost room of a ruin - finishing an exploration was always bittersweet. But today something pulled him to hurry. 

Closing his book, Mikleo opened the last door. He touched the feather as he walked in.

“One more room. I’ll tell you all about it, Sorey.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is rushed, but I really wanted to write these two before the year ends!


End file.
